The Whispering Mirrors

Alina Mercer had always been fascinated by abandoned places. Old mansions, forgotten libraries, and hidden passageways drew her like a moth to flame. The people of Eldergrove called the Crowley estate cursed. Rumors said that mirrors in the house reflected more than just your face. They said the mirrors whispered secrets about your soul and sometimes those who listened too long disappeared, swallowed by shadows that lingered behind the glass. Alina did not believe in curses. She believed in stories waiting to be unraveled. That was why, on the eve of her twenty fourth birthday, she walked past the rusted gates into the overgrown garden of the estate carrying only a flashlight, a notebook, and her insatiable curiosity.

The house loomed before her like a sleeping giant. Its windows were cracked and dark. The moonlight cast jagged shadows across its walls, and a cold wind carried the faint scent of something long dead. Every instinct whispered to turn back. Every rational thought screamed danger. But Alina could not. Something inside her pushed her forward. As she crossed the threshold, the air grew thick, heavy with the scent of dust and polished wood long untouched. Her flashlight barely pierced the darkness, but she saw the first mirror, an ornate gilded frame looming in the entry hall. The glass shimmered faintly as if alive, almost breathing. She approached, noting every detail in her notebook.

Alina touched the mirror gently. Her reflection stared back, pale and alert. Then the glass rippled. Her heart froze. She blinked. The rippling stopped. The room remained still. She laughed nervously, shaking her head. Old glass, she thought. Imperfect craftsmanship. But deep inside, a small, unnerving doubt had taken root. She turned to explore the next room. Hallways twisted unnaturally, as if the house itself had a mind. Mirrors lined every wall, each reflecting her in different angles, some distorted, some perfect. She began to feel watched. It was impossible, she told herself. The mirrors were objects, not observers.

Then a whisper came. Soft, distant, almost imperceptible. Alina froze. Her flashlight trembled in her hand. The whisper grew. Calling her name, drawing her toward the library at the center of the house. Alina’s pulse hammered in her chest. Who is there she demanded. There was no answer, only the whispers guiding her steps. When she entered the library, the room opened like a cathedral, filled with hundreds of mirrors hanging on every wall, their surfaces glowing faintly, breathing softly like a congregation of unseen watchers. The whispers were louder now, distinct voices threading together into one delicate melody that pulled at her soul.

A figure emerged from the largest mirror, stepping onto the floor as if water became flesh. He was impossibly tall, his presence both terrifying and beautiful. Dark hair framed a pale face. His eyes glimmered like silver moonlight, staring straight into hers. Alina stumbled back. Who are you she whispered, her voice barely audible. He smiled faintly. I am Eryndor, he said, voice echoing unnaturally. Guardian of the mirrors. Keeper of the boundaries between reflection and reality. You should not be here. But you are. His gaze softened. And that is why I cannot leave you be.

Alina shook her head, fear and fascination warring in her chest. You are not real. You cannot be. Eryndor stepped closer, every movement fluid and unearthly. I am as real as the reflection in your eyes and as bound to this house as you are bound to curiosity. His words sent a shiver down her spine. You speak in riddles. I came to explore, not to meet spirits. What do you want from me. He knelt slightly, lowering himself to her level. The mirrors chose you. They have always chosen those with a rare sight. A vision that can pierce both worlds. You see beyond the surface, Alina. That is why you hear the whispers. That is why I see you. She shook her head, struggling to comprehend the reality in front of her. The whispers were insistent now, louder, almost pleading. Something within her recognition stirred, a long-forgotten memory or a connection she could not place.

Alina approached the largest mirror hesitantly. Eryndor followed, his presence calming despite the strangeness. When she touched the glass, it rippled like water again. This time, her reflection did not move alone. Another version of her, pale and sorrowful, gazed back, lips moving silently. Then a hand reached out. Alina gasped. The reflection was not her own, but another, trapped behind the glass. Who are you she whispered. The figure mirrored her movements, silently pointing to Eryndor. He is the one who can free me, the reflection seemed to say. Alina looked at Eryndor, panic and hope mixing in her chest. Can you do it she asked.

Eryndor nodded slowly. The mirrors are prisons for those who lost their way, for those who became too enamored with forbidden knowledge. Some are trapped because they sought immortality. Others because they could not resist the call of the shadows beyond the glass. But their liberation requires trust and courage. He turned to her fully, eyes meeting hers with an intensity that stole her breath. Are you ready to risk yourself for them he asked. Alina swallowed, fear and determination warring. Yes she said firmly. I will try.

He took her hand, and she felt warmth surge through her as if a current of life flowed between them. The whispers intensified, a cacophony of voices urging her, calling her name, urging her to act. Alina felt herself slipping into a trance. Eryndor guided her gently toward the largest mirror. Place your hand fully upon the glass, he instructed. She obeyed, pressing her palm flat against the smooth surface. The glass rippled beneath her touch. A wave of light surged outward. Shadows twisted violently within each mirror, shrieking and recoiling from the force. Alina’s heart pounded. Eryndor whispered words she could not understand, his lips close to her ear, voice soothing yet powerful. The light from her touch spread, enveloping him, the mirrors, and herself. The whispers became a single voice, clear and melodic. Thank you it said. Freedom, it said. Your courage has awakened the balance once broken.

Alina felt herself being pulled forward, drawn into the light. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, the mirrors were empty, their surfaces dull and lifeless. The trapped figures were gone. Eryndor stood beside her, but his form was fading, dissolving into the golden light. Alina grabbed his hand. What is happening she cried. The hour of liberation he whispered. I am bound to the mirrors, and now the tether is undone. But know this he added, voice fading. I will find you beyond time, beyond worlds, because the bond we forged here will transcend anything that is lost. Alina felt tears stream down her face as he disappeared entirely, leaving only the faint shimmer of light where he had stood. The house was silent. Empty. Yet she felt a warmth in her heart, a pulse of connection that could not be broken. She looked at the mirrors one last time, whispered softly, Thank you, and turned to leave the Crowley estate. Outside, the moon shone full, and the fog lifted just enough for her to see the first stars of a clear night. She clutched her notebook tightly, feeling the promise of Eryndor’s return, and the certainty that some bonds, once formed, could never be severed.